


Reckless

by mercurymoon7490195



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Tasers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurymoon7490195/pseuds/mercurymoon7490195





	Reckless

"That's it, just a few more seconds," Combeferre muttered, his tongue clenched between his teeth as he sketched. "Just stay still."

The moth clinging to the window screen fluttered momentarily before settling back down again, drawn to the candle Combeferre has set in the window.

"Almost...done..."

There was a knock on the door, startling them both. The moth fluttered away, Combeferre scowling at the door.

"This better be important," he grumbled, crossing the room and throwing open the door.

Enjolras flashed him a pained smile, leaning heavily on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "I can explain."

Combeferre sighed. "Get him in here. Quickly." Courfeyrac half-dragged him into the living room, Marius trailing behind him, looking unsure as whether or not to follow.

"There was, uh, a bit of an incident," he said, trying to dig Enjolras' coat out of the pile in his arms. "I can leave, if you want-"

"Do you know how to make coffee?"

"Sure?"

"Then stay," Combeferre said, hurrying back to the bathroom. "We're going to need it."

Marius nodded, laying the coats across a chair and retreating to the kitchen.

"You insisted on helping me get home, and we're home," Enjolras said from the couch, wincing. "Really you've done enough."

"You're not getting rid of us that easily," Courfeyrac said loftily, though his eyes were concerned. "We're staying right here, all night if we have to."

"That won't be necce-"

Combeferre's glare stopped him as he returned, first aid kit clutched in his hands. "Let me look at it."

"It's not that bad," Enjolras grumbled, trying to steady his shaking fingers enough to unbutton his shirt. "You don't need to baby me, Combeferre."

"Lay down and hold still." He pushed Enjolras' hands away, finishing the last few buttons and pushing his shirt aside. He let out a deep breath, letting the shirt fall. "Really Enjolras? Again?"

"There was a protest," Enjolras started. "In the middle of La Défense. They brought the riot police and it sort of...devolved from there."

"They tasered him." Courfeyrac added. "Twice."

"It was quite impressive," Marius added, poking his head out of the kitchen.

"I see." Combeferre's face was unreadable behind his glasses. "Courf, grab some ice and put it in a towel, please?"

Courfeyrac nodded and hurried into the kitchen.

Enjolras smiled. "You should have seen the protest Combeferre," He said as his friend leaned over him, watching the clock as he measured his pulse. "It was...magnificent. I wish I'd been the one to organize it, my god. I texted you to come down with us-"

"I didn't have my phone on me," Combeferre said distractedly, nodding graciously to Courfeyrac. "And you shouldn't have been there in the first place."

Enjolras hissed, flinching as Combeferre pressed the ice to his burns. "I had to see for myself, 'Ferre. And stop telling me what to do."

"He has a point-" Courfeyrac started.

"And I don't?" Combeferre pulled the tattered red shirt completely off and pushed him forward. "Your last one hasn't even healed completely," he said coolly, pointing to the still-visible burn on his back. "What is this, the second time this month?"

"Third," Enjolras murmured, glaring.

Combeferre rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Third," he breathed. "The Third time this month. Not including the pepper spray."

"To be fair," Courfeyrac said. "You were right there for the first two."

Marius nodded, carrying four mugs of coffee and setting them on the table. "Right behind him."

"And did I get tasered?" Combeferre demanded. "How about you, Marius? Courf?"

"Pepper spray, sure," Courfeyrac said. "But no, not tasered."

Enjolras glared, shrugging his shirt back on. "Bahorel has," he said. "Multiple times."

"That's Bahorel," Combeferre said, sipping his coffee slowly. "He's been getting into fights since before we met him. What's your excuse, Enjolras? Is that what you're doing? Picking fights with cops? Or are you just that reckless-"

"I'm not reckless-"

"Really?!" Combeferre set his cup back down, folding his arms. "Four shocks with a taser and one pepper spray to the face this month alone, And you don't think you're being reckless? Do you know how much damage all that electricity could do from one shock alone?! People have died from tasers, I've seen it happen! Perfectly healthy people!"

"It's just a taser, 'Ferre, I'm strong enough-"

"And what happens when it's not?!" Combeferre was on his feet in a flash, leaning over Enjolras. "Next time you might not be so lucky, Enjolras! They might have better aim, hell, next time it might be a gun! What will you do then? You're not impervious to bullets! What happens if you get shot, and you're on the other side of town, or unconscious in an alley somewhere? You think you can survive a bullet piercing your heart?" He straightened up, his eyes still drilling into Enjolras'. "Tell me, do you really want to die on the streets of Paris?!"

"If it's for a cause I believe in, yes." Enjolras said, dropping the ice as he stood, staring right back. "I'm not afraid of death, Combeferre!"

"I know you're not! That's what worries me! And sit back down." He pushed him back to the couch, thrusting the ice into his hands.

"'Ferre, now look-"

Combeferre's gaze turned to him and Courfeyrac stopped, his eyes darting between his friends. "Come on, 'Ferre, it's okay, we're all fine...and I'm sure next time Enjolras will be able to keep himself out of trouble-"

"And we'll be there to help keep him out of trouble." Marius added.

Combeferre shook his head. "See, that's what I thought about this time. I had hoped after last time that you lot would be able to keep him out of trouble! Apparently," he gestured in Enjolras' direction. "I was wrong."

Courfeyrac bit his lip, frowning. "Marius, maybe it's time you and I go get Bahorel, speaking as we were of him. He should be out of booking by now, we don't want to keep him waiting."

Combeferre looked up sharply. "What happened to Bahorel?!"

"Well, he kind of... punched out the cop who tasered Enjolras. And we didn't realize Javert was right there-so, yeah, he's in jail. I told him we'd bail him out as we were making a rather, uh, strategic retreat, so...yeah."

Combeferre shook his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Is he the only one in jail?"

"Yeah. Everyone else got away. They might have all retreated to the Musain, I can text Jehan and check."

"I'll come with you," Enjolras said, standing again.

"Like hell you are," Combeferre pushed him down again. "You're staying right here for the rest of the night."

"Our friends need us 'Ferre. If they're already there-I'll call an emergency meeting."

"Bullshit. Our friends can take care of themselves for a night. You need to take care of yourself."

"It was a very important night for the cause," Enjolras said drawing himself up to full height once more. "A cause which everyone was there to support, except you Combeferre. I'm starting to wonder how much of your heart is with us-"

The smack of Combeferre's hand across his face echoed through the silent apartment. "Don't even start," he hissed, turning away. "Not tonight." He paused at the first aid kit, scooping up the burn cream and tossing it onto the couch. "Do what you want. If you want to kill yourself for the cause, go ahead. But don't expect me to watch." He strode down the hall and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him with a sharp click.

Courfeyrac watched him go for a long moment, then let out a low whistle, pulling on his coat. "C'mon Marius," he muttered.

Enjolras groaned, slumping a little. . "I'll come help you."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "They'd arrest you as soon as you walked in the door. And I think you better stay here...talk to 'Ferre, once he's calmed down a little."

Marius nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks. We'll just talk about things at our regular meeting tomorrow, I guess. It'll all be...fine." He winced as a spasm rippled through his abdomen, a grim smile spreading across his face. "It'll all be fine," he repeated firmly. "Thank you for getting me home, my friends."

"That's what we're here for," Courfeyrac said, patting him gently on the shoulder. He turned to the door but paused, his smile fading a little. "But 'Ferre is right...you should be more careful. Our friends need their fearless leader intact, you know?"

He nodded and shut the door, leaving Enjolras leaning heavily against the end table, frowning at the floor. "I know," he murmured softly. He slowly made his way back to the couch picking up the towel full of ice and the cream and turning down the hallway, leaning against the wall. As he stopped at the door, he closed his eyes, fingers steadying himself on the door frame, before he knocked softly.

"Ferre? Open the door?"

He heard a quiet sniff on the other side of the wood, closer than he had expected. Stifling a groan, he eased himself onto the floor, wedging himself into the doorway.

"I guess I owe you a bit of an apology then?"

"You think?" Combeferre murmured thickly, sniffing again.

Enjolras winced as he returned the ice to his burns, staring up at the ceiling. "It's just...you know I wasn't trying to worry you, don't you?"

"I know."

"I know I sometimes get a little carried away-"

"A little?"

"Okay, a lot carried away." He traced a knot in the floor boards, mulling over his words. "It's just that...we can't let the future slip by us, you know? We have a chance to change things, for the better, for all of France...but to do that, we actually have to get out there and take to the streets...take a stand...just, something..."

"I know."

"It's hard to change anything if we just play it safe."

"There's a difference though." Combeferre said sharply. "A difference between playing it too safe and throwing your life away, and from the way things have been, I'm worried you're leaning towards the second."

"I'm not trying to," Enjolras murmured. "I just want to...I want to make sure people know I'm serious about this. I'm not going to stop just because the road gets hard, or there are setbacks along the way. I'm not going to stop for anything they could throw at us to make us stop; not tasers or tear gas or even cannons...not even guns..."

The floor creaked as Combeferre moved, opening the door. His eyes were red behind his glasses, even as he crawled over, pulling Enjolras into his arms. "No one doubts that, Enjolras." he murmured in his ear, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "If I ever find someone who doubts your dedication, I'll be the first to show them how wrong they are." He pulled away a little, glaring. "And just because I don't show that dedication by leaping into the line of fire doesn't mean I believe in our work any less than you do."

"I know," Enjolras' hands tightened around his shoulders. "I'm sorry for saying as much. I never meant-"

"I know." Combeferre pressed his lips to his cheek, closing his eyes. "I just...don't want to see you die again."

Now it was Enjolras' turn to pull back, confused. "Again?"

Combeferre shook his head, standing and pulling him inside. "Period. I don't want to see you die, period."

Enjolras half-collapsed onto the bed, watching Combeferre pace the floor in front of him. It felt all too familiar. A shiver ran down his spine, one that had nothing to do with the taser. "Why again, Combeferrre." His voice held a note of his usual somber authority, however wavering. "Tell me."

"It's nothing." Combeferre crossed to the window, staring out at the Paris streets, leaning his head against the glass. "It's just...nightmares. I've had nightmares of you dying since I met you..even when we were kids. Not every night...but every so often. They get worse, more frequent, at the beginning of summer, and I've never been able to figure out why. Half the reason I was excited for that sleep psychology seminar I took last year was because I hoped maybe it'd give me some answers as to why I keep having that same dream..."

He glanced back at Enjolras, who was staring at the floor, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, again, it's stupid."

Enjolras shook his head. "These dreams," he said slowly. He looked up and met his friend's gaze, a tired, almost haunted look spread across his face. "Are they ever of a barricade?"

Combeferre's eyes widened. He nodded slowly.

Enjolras sighed, deflating as he leaned back on his elbows. Combeferre sank onto the bed beside him, exhaustion settling over him like a blanket. Neither of them spoke, even as Enjolras' hand found his, squeezing it tightly.

"You should really put that cream on tonight," Combeferre muttered finally. "Or it'll feel like hell tomorrow."

"It's already going to feel like hell tomorrow," Enjolras replied. He let go of Combeferre's hand, leaning back again. "Could you?"

Combeferre shook his head. "My hands aren't clean."

"Cleaner than mine."

Combeferre leaned over and grabbed a tissue, dabbing the cream gently over the twin burns. Enjolras grimaced, his eyes turned to the sky behind the ceiling. "Do you think they mean anything? These dreams?"

Combeferre shrugged. "Maybe..." He stopped, brushing a hand over a dark, round birthmark that stood out against the marble of his chest. Even in the dim light, he noticed there were others, lighter, scattered across his chest and torso. "I think...you still need to be more careful." he said, laying down beside him. "For all our sakes."

Enjolras nodded slowly, pressing his face into Combeferre's shirt, "I think...you might be right."


End file.
